


A Sad Kind of Bliss

by abaxialCornucopia



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Royalty, Slow Burn, Well actually this is fanfic of a friend’s original work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 16:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16601900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abaxialCornucopia/pseuds/abaxialCornucopia
Summary: Snippets of a budding relationship between broken royalty.





	A Sad Kind of Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the lack of actual context but this is my friend’s work i’m just writing fanfic for something that hasn’t been published
> 
> TOTAL LITERARY ANARCHY

Her hands deftly untied the sticky bandages around Julian’s arm, tossing them to the ground nonchalantly. He gave her a bitter look she knew very well: it was the why-aren’t-you-bothered glare.

Selene shrugged. Her illness made her familiar enough with all the blood and gore, to the point it was somewhat fascinating to her. And whatever mental ailment haunted Julian surely couldn’t be any worse than her own; but she’d never tell him this, of course, she’d keep on being a lovable princess until the day he left her…

She unwound a fresh roll of gauze and covered the scars from his elbow down to his wrist. She made sure to watch his face cautiously for any sign of discomfort, even if she knew Julian would never let out so much as an ouch, stoic man that he was. “Done,” Selene said, a smile on the edge of her lips.

“Much obliged,” Julian said. He moved to fidget with the newly-applied bandages, but Selene grabbed his wrist before he could.

“Don’t,” she ordered, much more queen regnant than merely princess, and it did something to his chest. “I do not want to see you touch your arm until it’s fully healed.”

“You are aware I have to go back to the field soon,” he deadpanned.

Selene gave him an once-over and smiled. “Of course not. You will stay here with me until you’re hale and hearty. Do you think you currently have the strength to wield a sword?”

He shrugged, a defeated look on his face. Maybe it was for the best. “Thanks for reminding me of my own pathetic state. A prince who slit his wrists too deep and can’t do jack shit in combat.”

“You know that is not what anyone thinks of you, Volcek,” she frowned. Her hands clutched his sunken cheeks. “Your partners worry not because you are pitiful, but because you are a lighthouse in their lives. And they need you to ease off so you can get back in there and fight.”

Julian didn’t say anything, though he leaned into her—cold, always so cold—touch. Around Selene, he felt a lot like a moth drawn to a light. Or an addicted hooligan who regularly shotgunned awful beers in one of the dingy taverns back home, to put it less romantically. Point was, he was inextricably attached to her; she gave him a purpose where there used to be none, and even if he knew well enough not to lean on a potential romance so much, he couldn’t help what his traitorous heart ached for. (Her nonchalance while cleaning up his self-inflicted cuts only added to that feeling of codependency.)

“Rest, prince,” she told him, impossibly long fingernails carding through his messy hair, and he couldn’t deny her anything. He settled back against the soft pillows and let his eyes flutter shut, drifting into rather restful sleep.

* * *

He woke up with Selene by his side. Dim, autumnal sunlight streamed through the windows. The fireplace had been kindled after he fell asleep, and it was pleasantly warm under the sheets, in spite of the withering trees and light snow outside.

He shifted as slowly as possible, careful not to wake her up, but she had already beaten him to the punch. “Good morning,” Selene said, and was that a hint of smugness in her hoarse voice? She was probably pleased to catch one of his rare moments of subtle, unguarded affection. “You are quite the loud sleeper, Volcek.”

Julian rolled his eyes and chuckled. “What do I even talk about so much, then?”

She propped herself up on her elbows, and the blanket slid off to reveal she had rid herself of her dress to wear a silken nightgown. The dark fabric made her silver hair and cherry lips even more apparent.

Julian’s breath hitched.

She wasn’t busty like the escorts Akteon used to bring to his room, or even as curvy as the gorgeous, sun-kissed women the King goaded him into courting. But what caught Julian wasn’t the traditional standard of beauty; where others would see illness and morbidity, he saw a delicacy in Selene’s pallor and the protruding outline of her ribs whenever her chest heaved with a sigh. There was something alluring about the way she always held glassware like it was bound to slip out of her grasp, and the sweet lilt to her voice every time she crooned his name in mock disapproval.

“Me,” Selene said, and pressed her hand to his chest to make him lay flat on the bed again. He inhaled deeply, expectation settling low in his gut—would she be the one to break the unspoken tension between them?—but nothing happened; she left him there and hopped out of bed to stretch, and every time she tugged her arms upward, the nightgown hiked up and exposed more of her pale skin. It was absolute torture.

She had him wrapped around her pinky like an abandoned dog tied to a tree.

* * *

That morning, Selene ignored the royal routine. They broke their fasts together, huddled under the covers to avoid the cold weather, silver trays balanced precariously on their knees. To Julian, it felt a lot like a couple’s morning, and he chided himself for giving into the romantic fantasies festering in his mind.

He plucked a berry from his own meal and pressed it to Selene’s lips. She immediately took all of it into her mouth and swallowed with gusto. When she came to, her hand immediately covered her lips, her eyes wide as saucers. “That was quite unbecoming of me,” she mumbled. “I apologise.”

Julian raised an eyebrow. “What do you have to apologise for?” He took a berry for himself.

Her cheeks flushed pink. “Nothing. I have just had these… eating manners instilled into me from day one. It still feels strange to be so comfortable around someone else.”

“At least it means you’ve warmed up to me, doesn’t it?”

“You are definitely one of the first people I have ever truly felt connected to, so yes,” she told him. Her lips quirked up with a kind smile. “We ought to do this again. Hopefully under more favourable circumstances, though.”

He shifted a bit closer to her, their arms bumped together. Unexpectedly, she leaned her head on his shoulder and relaxed, delicate eyelashes fanned against her cheeks. His heart tightened with an affection he had never experienced in his life, not really; he cared for the people around him on a base level, but the woes of melancholy had numbed him almost fully. And with Selene, it was as if he had downed one of the healing elixirs alchemists talked about so often.

She had successfully played her way into his heart, and worst of all, Julian didn’t know in the slightest bit where this endeavour would end.


End file.
